


The Dangerous Patience Of Kara Thrace

by Jenwryn



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s02e05 The Farm, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-15
Updated: 2007-05-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 06:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenwryn/pseuds/Jenwryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patience is easy, cold and hard and easy, once she knows she's been lied to.</p><p>Tag to Episode 02.05 (The Farm).</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dangerous Patience Of Kara Thrace

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd.

Kara Thrace sits in the hospital bed, unread magazine in her lap, and waits patiently. Oh, yes, she can be patient, when she needs to be. People don't think that, but then, that's mostly because people _don't _think. Right, so she can be impetuous and a hot-head, and more often than not she couldn't give a flying frak about the more subtle things in life. But of course she can be patient. Isn't she always, in that eternal second that hangs between getting her opponent in target and actually pressing to fire? Only the truly patient can be hunters and Starbuck's the best damn hunter the Fleet has ever seen – and she knows it. Oh, yes, she can be patient. Patience is easy – cold, dark patience – now that she knows that the frakking bastard lied to her. Knows that he opened his mouth and nothing but untruths came out, and he is a cylon after all. Maybe she knew it all along, somewhere deep in the curled corners of her guts; knew that she wasn't among humans, knew that this eerie silent hospital –_ hospital, ha! _– was run by skin job toasters. Cylons, always frakking cylons, messing with her head, messing with her body... And all that about her mother – Kara clenches her knuckles involuntarily. She hates the fact that a cylon knows about her broken bones, that a cylon, again, knows what no-one should know, knows what's none of his frakking business, knows what she doesn't even admit to herself. What is it with the skin jobs and her mother? What is it with them and being so damn pretentious, so deep-and-frakking-meaningful? Streams and pools and gods and mothers. Cylons have no right to angst and philosophy.

Kara Thrace sits in the hospital bed, unread magazine in her lap, and waits patiently. Oh, yes, she can be patience incarnate if she chooses. And now, now she can feel the shard of glass in her hand, caresses her thumb along its jagged edges. She already knows how good it will feel in his skin, sliding deep in his neck. Gods, at least the frakkers bleed, at least they die, at least they give you that much satisfaction. She knows it's only a temporary pleasure, knows that they just come back but – at least they give you that. A small pleasure. Pleasure. She shuts her eyes for a heartbeat, before blinking them open again, a hard set to her jaw. Pleasure makes her think of Anders. Samuel T. Anders – what kind of frakked up universe put him in her path, anyway? Artemis and Aphrodite... she wonders what he'd say about her prayer worn idols, wrapped up and kept tucked in her locker, tucked in her soul. He'd probably give her one of his looks with those damned eyes of his and pull her to him, slap her arse. She grins crookedly, despite herself, despite her hard-set jaw, at the thought. He's a frakkin' madman... Oh, Lords of Kobol, let the bastard have lied about that too, let Anders be alive, let it be a lie. She grips harder on the glass. She doesn't want to think about how much she cares. She doesn't want to care as much as she thinks she might.

Kara Thrace sits in the hospital bed, unread magazine in her lap, and waits patiently. Oh, yes, she can be patient. Cold, dangerous, and calculatingly patient. Patience is the path to vengeance. And she _needs_ vengeance, vengeance for her galaxy, vengeance for her body, vengeance for everything - but most of all vengeance for that that moment, that moment when she saw the blonde cylon, that moment fleeing blindly back down the hall, that moment of black terror in her room... She had never, never in her entire life been more petrified than in those moments. Scared out of her frakking mind. But now—

Simon enters the room, that innocent face of his. "Morning."

Starbuck looks up, almost vaguely, and half-smiles. "Hmm."

Oh, yes, patience is the path to vengeance.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

She meets his eyes. "You know, something actually has been bothering me lately..."

 


End file.
